


The Last Gift

by MoonNewt66



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonNewt66/pseuds/MoonNewt66
Summary: Captain Kirk receives an unexpected birthday gift.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Last Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 1986.
> 
> Story takes place in the 4th year of the original mission, however, it includes scenes from “Operation Annihilate,” with brief mentions of Tarsus IV, Janus IV and Hellguard. 
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
> 
> “The Last Gift” is based on an idea first suggested in the “Alternate Universe 4,” Vol. 1, Chapter 1, written by the dear late Shirley Maiewski. A special thank you to Shirley for allowing me to expound on her original idea. 
> 
> Shirley's story is at this link:  
> [http://www.simegen.com/fandom/startrek/au4/vol1/index.html#Chapter_I_](url)

FAREWELL

In the sun's light  
looking into your eyes,  
I saw reflected back  
the brilliant fire  
of the night stars.  
Knowing then  
I could not hold  
you to the Earth,  
I released you,  
to journey amongst  
your stars. 

He had waited until he was sure that his mother had finally cried herself to sleep, before he climbed out of his third story attic bedroom window, using the ivy trellis for support. He moved carefully, the deep darkness of the new moon instilling an unusual sense of caution within him. 

Reaching the ground, he gave a quick sigh of relief, the muscles in his legs trembling. Reaching under the porch, he picked up the blanket and pillow he'd kept hidden there for nights like this one, and walked towards the wheat fields. 

Laying down on the blanket, he felt the warmth of the day's hot July sun, absorbed by the rich earth, radiate up against his back. A cool night breeze caressed his face, stirred the wheat stalks surrounding him. The ensuing noise was reminiscent of the Pacific Ocean he had seen and heard on the last vacation spent with his father, a year ago, when his parents were trying to assuage his terror from the events on Tarsus IV. 

Thinking of his father brought a sudden, unbidden surge of tears to his eyes. He shook his head, clenching his hands into tight fists to stop the feeling. Wouldn't do any good to start crying. Not now. 

With his head supported by the pillow, he opened his eyes to take in the sight of the sky above him. This was the best time to stargaze, no moon, clear weather. His family's farm was far enough out in the Iowa countryside from any city to have interference from artificial light. 

The culmination of the Great Rift, the dark cloud bisecting the Milky Way from Cygnus to Sagittarius, had occurred several days ago, and was still visible in the evening sky. The planet Venus was also making an appearance. 

He quickly looked at Altair, Deneb, and Vega, the highest magnitude stars. Eventually he found the M29 star cluster southeast of Deneb, and then the M57 Ring Nebula southwest of Vega. Now he would patiently for the Delta Aquarid meteor shower to begin. 

While he waited, memories of his father surfaced again, along with all the new emotions that recently had been thrust upon him. He had never felt more afraid, confused, angry, and worst of all, guilty. 

Angry at this brother, Sam, for not returning home for the summer after graduating from college as he had promised to. Angry at his father for being missing in action, and just recently being reclassified as possibly KIA - before he had a chance to tell his father how much he loved and respected him. Angry at his mother, because today she had refused to sanction early admittance into Starfleet Academy. 

With both his father and his elder brother gone, his mother needed him to help around the farm. Why couldn't his mother understand his need to go to the stars like his father?

Guilt. Guilt was eating him up from the inside out. He could it feel it now, gnawing away at his stomach, working its way up into his chest, making it hard to breathe. How could he possibly feel anger towards his parents? Or Sam?

He wasn't worthy of the name James Tiberius Kirk. 

With a start, Captain James T. Kirk woke up. He had fallen asleep while sitting at his desk in his quarters, head down on folded arms. His mind whirled with the fading echoes of his dream. He wondered what had awakened him, when the sound of the intercom paging his computer terminal buzzed again. Must be the bridge, ready with his call home. 

“Kirk here,” he said, his voice heavy with his lack of sufficient sleep, and deep to the bone tiredness. 

“Captain, Starbase 15 has put another hold on Swin,” said the rich voice of Lieutenant Uhura. “We should be able to put your call through in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” replied Kirk, reaching over to close the connection. Sudden memory stayed his hand. Uhura? She was on off-duty status, just as he was supposed to be. What was she doing on the bridge? Then he recalled the quick look of dismay that had crossed the face of the Ensign posted to communications when he'd requested the call home to Earth on the Swin. 

The Swinburne-Govan tachyon principle had recently been incorporated into Starbase 15's communications system. Sub-space communications had joined the warp drive for inherent speed. The time delay over great distances had been reduced from hours and days, to seconds and minutes. It was very new. 

So new, that apparently the Ensign, realizing the importance of his Captain's call, had awakened Lieutenant Uhura to come to the bridge to place it. Kirk knew that this was not done out of fear of reprimand from him if the Swin connection was lost, he did not command his crew in that fashion. Uhura had been summoned, and had responded, out of genuine concern and affection towards him, feelings that were always an amazement to him, but he savored them none the less. 

“Lieutenant?” prompted Kirk. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you very much, Nyota,” he said, using the rarely spoken first name of his Chief Communications Officer. 

He was rewarded with a flashing, warm smile. “My pleasure, sir,” she replied. 

To his great delight, he was instantly aware that she meant it. 

Kirk yawned, placing his right hand against the back of his neck, kneading the muscles in an attempt to relieve the tension in them. He started to rub his eyes with his left hand, when he felt his fingers begin to tremble, then suddenly his entire body began to shake uncontrollably. 

It took several minutes for the tremors to subside. Bones was right as usual, he thought, the stimulants he had been taking for the last three days to keep going, working twenty hours a day, had caught up with him. Unable to sleep but for brief periods, and then having nightmares about episodes and feelings from his childhood he had kept suppressed for years. 

Like the dream he had just had. He hadn't thought of that day, his 17th birthday, in years. 

Fortunately, his father hadn't died then. His father, and the rest of the survivors from his ship, had been rescued just a few weeks later, by a merchant vessel passing through that quadrant. His father had lived to see him become Captain of the Enterprise, but passed away shortly after the mission to Janus IV. 

Sighing, Kirk looked at the chronometer and found he still had fifteen minutes before Uhura could put his call through. Looking down at his computer terminal, he keyed up the engineering status report on the Enterprise's damage. 

Six days ago his ship had been only hours away from Starbase 15 and three months extended R&R, when an Ion storm had unexpectedly developed around the starship. The high variant forces had quickly shattered the sensitive dilithium crystals into slender shards, the matter/antimatter warp engines were damaged by structural pressures on the Enterprise's hull. 

Kirk had read the report so many times over the last several days he had most of it memorized. He was hoping that perhaps Scotty or one of the engineering technicians had overlooked something. However, that hope quickly died. He noted the time he had estimated to effect repairs had been confirmed by Scotty's latest addendum; at least three months at a starbase repair facility. 

Two months ago Kirk had received word from Starfleet Command that the Enterprise had been selected for a special assignment. The fifth year of their exploration mission would be spent in the Orion Arm, the unclaimed space strategically located between Federation Treaty Territory and the Romulan Empire. 

The Federation had not previously expended effort in exploring this region, or even considered it, as the majority of the Orion Arm was a star desert. Until the discovery of Hellguard. T'Pau had requested that Spock command the Vulcan research team to rescue those inhabitants and begin the primary investigation, and Spock had left the ship immediately. 

Hellguard was an abandoned Romulan colony world. The Federation now wanted to know why the Romulans had established a colony so far from the populous regions of their empire? And once established, why had they so abruptly abandoned it? Spock was charged with finding the answers. 

As incentive, the crew of the Enterprise was given three months extended R&R at the end of their fourth mission year. Plans were made by numerous crew members to travel to their home worlds for a rare visit. Even Kirk had made arrangements to return to Earth to visit his widowed mother and orphaned nephew, Peter. And he had talked Spock and McCoy into accompanying him. However, Spock would now spend his R&R on Hellguard. 

Kirk's travel plans were adjusted to include just Kirk and McCoy. Then, two weeks ago, McCoy had received an urgent request for medical assistance from the Cochranes on Gamma Canaris N. McCoy would be spending his R&R with them, helping to deliver Nancy Cochrane's baby. Which left Kirk going home alone to face the ghosts he had left behind. 

Now the Ion storm. Kirk and his crew would miss the commercial starship they had booked passed on by the time they arrived at Starbase 15. Only by pulling strings, and calling in old favors owed, would he be able find passage home for his crew. The severity of the Enterprise's damages necessitated his staying on the Starbase to oversee repairs with Chief Engineer Scott, who was also giving up his R&R for the Enterprise. 

Sitting, staring at the status report, Kirk waited patiently for Uhura to put through his call, briefly wondering if fate had been against this trip home to begin with. His door announcer chimed, breaking his reverie. Hitting the release, the door to his quarters pulled back, admitting Leonard McCoy, the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer. 

“Jim, you know I don't make house calls. You're overdue at sickbay,” chided McCoy. 

“Sorry, Bones. Starbase 15 put a hold on the Swin. Guess I lost track of time.”

McCoy frowned. It wasn't like Kirk to 'lose track of time.' Reaching for the medi-kit attached to his side, he pulled out a feinberger, running the instrument over Kirk's body. 

“Hmmmmm.”

“Why do you always say that?” asked Kirk. 

“I don't always say Hmmmm. Sometimes it's just Hmmm. You're getting to be too sensitive, Jim. Hmmm, let's see, blood pressure up, pulse too. Hmmmmm!”

“Would you please stop saying that? The Yorktown should be alongside shortly to tow us into Starbase 15. All I need is one last stimulant to keep me going until we make port,” said Kirk. 

“And that's just what that it could be, your last stimulant. When was the last time you had a decent meal, or a few hours of sleep? Let Scotty handle the tow arrangements, he is your acting First Officer, let him earn his pay. If Spock ...”

“Spock isn't here,” interrupted Kirk, sighing. (Which produced another frown on McCoy's face.) 

“I didn't realize until all this happened how much I've come to rely on Spock in running the Enterprise. I can't help wondering if he had been aboard, maybe we could have missed that Ion storm, “ said Kirk. 

McCoy's face contorted with another frown. Raising his hands, he started to respond to Kirk's last statement, then as if realizing the futility of arguing, he too sighed, and sat down in the chair opposite Kirk's at the desk. 

“Once we hook up with the Yorktown, how long till we arrive at Starbase 15?” asked McCoy. 

Kirk smiled, noting McCoy changing the subject. 

“We can only use warp one for towing, but Chekov plotted us making planetfall within three hours. Damn, Bones, I hate for her to be towed in, but it would take us a month to make the same distance on impulse engines.”

McCoy was deeply concerned for his Captain and friend. Spock's sudden departure from the Enterprise had added to Kirk's growing stress problems. The youngest Starship Captain in Starfleet history, his accomplishments were fast rivaling those of Pike's, Garth's and Garrovick's. McCoy was also aware of the widespread betting pool not only aboard the Enterprise, but other starships, on the date James Kirk would make Admiral. 

Knowing that to acknowledge Kirk's stress too soon could be more harmful that helpful, McCoy was constantly plotting various, and sometimes, devious, ways into channeling Kirk's stress into new projects. Getting Sulu to instruct Kirk at fencing had been his latest ploy. 

The rapidly occurring events of the last several days had developed too swiftly for McCoy to deflect any of the stress. Kirk had been living on stimulants, which were now in the process of tearing him apart. If the Enterprise didn't make planetfall within three hours, his 'joke' about the last stimulant being the last, could be far too accurate. 

McCoy had agreed to accompany Kirk home to Earth, primarily to insure that Kirk went. He was sure their three months away from Starfleet were what Kirk need. McCoy had been first surprised when Spock had also agreed to join them, but then realized Spock because of his special rapport with Kirk, was also aware of Kirk's stress. Blasted Vulcan would never admit to that though! And now Spock would not be able to go to Earth with Jim, and neither would he. 

Kirk's intercom buzzed again, this time breaking both officers away from their thoughts. 

“Kirk here.”

“Captain, your party is standing by on channel E,” advised Uhura. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The image of Marjorie Kirk filled the screen, bringing a surge of emotion to James Kirk so sharp and full, he had to suppress a sudden urge to laugh. It had been, what, almost ten years since he had been home? Although he had over the years received regular video letters from his mother, it had also been several years since he had talked with her during “real time.”

The time lag between transmission and reception would be roughly three minutes each way. It would be six minutes before Kirk would see the reaction on his mother's face to seeing him. 

“Mom, hi! Hope I didn't wake you,” started Kirk lamely, as he suddenly realized that he had no idea what time it was in Iowa. He was vaguely aware that it was early morning on the Enterprise. “But I needed to talk with you about my visit...”

As Jim talked, McCoy watched him, and the face on the terminal screen. McCoy had met Marjorie Kirk previously years ago. This image of her had now changed, not dramatically, but enough to pique his professional curiosity. 

McCoy leaned closer to the screen, being cautious not to alert Jim. Carefully he studied Marjorie Kirk, looking for what had first caught his attention. Then, he saw it. 

Across the bridge of her nose, spreading to her cheeks, was the faint outline of a butterfly. The result, he knew, of a patchy, red, skin rash; the trademark of systemic lupus erythematosus. McCoy noted that Marjorie Kirk's blonder hair was dull, graying and thinning. Her skin was pale, face thin, heavily lined, with dark circles under eyes. The disease appeared to be in the last stages. 

McCoy glanced quickly at Kirk. He didn't appear to have noticed anything wrong. In fact, his posture had relaxed, indicating that some of his earlier tension had been relieved. McCoy decided to keep his suspicions to himself for the time. 

The time allotted for the Swin passed quickly, with Uhura paging to advise the connection would be cut in seven minutes, time enough to say their final goodbyes. Then the screen went black. 

The major force of the incoming waves was broken upon the reef, the surviving waves rolled gently toward the beach, rocking the craft he was laying on. Spray from the reef hit his face, cooling the burned skin where the sunscreen had worn off. 

The fading light of the late afternoon had deepened to dark; purple shadows on the slopes of the nearby mountains, and hazy blue over the cove. The few clouds in the sky floated lazily by. 

Hearing loud splashing sounds fast approaching him, he looked up just in time to see dad swimming towards him, a large grin on his face. Reaching the raft, his dad grabbed the nearest end, and with one hand upended it, dumping him into the ocean. 

The warm salt water entered his nose and mouth as he gasped in surprise, sinking down below the surface. Soon reaching the bottom in the shallower water, he kicked off, shooting back up to the top. 

Reaching the surface, he gulped in air, coughing up swallowed water. He felt hands reaching for his legs, kicking back with vigor, he heard Sam yell out in surprise, as his right foot made contact with his brother's stomach. 

Turning, he saw Sam behind him, and next to Sam, his dad, trying to get on top of the raft. From the shore, he heard his mother yelling out encouragement, as he swam towards the raft. He and Sam teamed up, dumping his dad into the sea, as Sam took possession of the raft. 

The war for the raft went on for several minutes. Somehow he ended up as victor, his dad laughing, clapping him on the back. Sam just smiled, then swam back to shore to join his fiance, Aurelan. 

Tomorrow their vacation on Maui would be over, and in a week his dad would be leaving, to take command of his new ship. The USS Lewis and Clark was one of new scout class starships. His had would be going to explore regions of space far beyond that man had already traveled to. How he wished he could be going too!

The night before, after dinner, he had walked out on the beach for his night of stargazing. After a while, his dad had joined him, and together they charted the sky. He pointed out the stars he had come to know, and his dad filled him with stories of stars he was unable to see from Earth. He told his father his father of his desire to go with him, and in response, his dad had unexpectedly leaned over and hugged him tightly for several minutes. 

Now, from the shore he heard his parents laughing, George Kirk chasing Marjorie down the beach, throwing seaweed at her. The action of the waves gently began rocking the raft again, the spray cooling his face, lulling him into sleep. The last remembered sounds were that of his parents laughter as they played on the beach. 

“Captain,” said Uhura, gently shaking his shoulder. In the ride over from the repair facility, Kirk had fallen asleep in the shuttle taxi, his face directly under the air vent. 

Opening his eyes, Kirk looked at Uhura, then smiled. 

“Hope I wasn't snoring.”

“No sir, but we're here at the restaurant now,” said Uhura. “If you want, we could do this another night, that is, if you are too tired.” Please, please don't let him say yes, Uhura thought, not after all the planning and scheming. 

“Oh, no, Uhura, you promised dinner, and dinner it will be. I'm not tired,” laughed Kirk, holding back a yawn. 

Exiting the shuttle taxi, Kirk and Uhura were met by Scott outside the restaurant. Scott nodded to Kirk, and under his breath to Uhura said, “Everything's set.” Uhura smiled in acknowledgement as they entered. 

“Happy Birthday, Captain!” exclaimed Uhura, as she and Scotty stepped aside to let Kirk enter the private back room of the Via Veneto Ristorante. 

“Happy Birthday!” chorused back numerous members of the Enterprise crew already assembled inside the room. 

Kirk's face showed his surprise, as he gaped open mouthed at the decorations festooning the room, and the shipmates he had assumed were still off on Starbase 15 for their extended R&R. Looking around the room, he smiled back at Sulu, Chekov, Ngao, M'Benga, Chapel, RH'Lieuu, Leslie, Singh and Giotto. 

Kirk turned to Uhura. “This is the quiet dinner you and Scotty have been promising me all week?”

Uhura laughed. “It was the only way we knew of that guaranteed to get out of the portmaster's office at a decent time. We planned on you not being able to turn down dinner at your favorite restaurant.”

“Which is another way of telling me I've been overworking,” said Kirk, still smiling. “All right, 'Doctor' Uhura, your patient is more than ready for his preventive medicine!'

The evening went too fast for Kirk, who had missed the company of his friends and shipmates. Over the dinner of Italian cuisine, they exchanged stories of the shore leave adventures they had had during their time apart. 

After the dinner, Kirk was given gifts from those friends in attendance, and from two who could not be there, but had made arrangements for their gifts to be there. 

Kirk unwrapped the gift from Spock, an old fashioned book, printed on heavy paper, with gilt edges. The beauty of the book clearly indicated it was an antique. “The Odyssey,” by Homer was stamped on the cover in gold lettering. 

McCoy's gift of potent Romulan ale also seemed to Kirk another gentle reminder from one of his friends to take more time to relax. The delays in getting the Enterprise ready for departure had been taxing on him, and now that the date had been set for next week, Kirk had been pressing everyone involved to make sure that his ship sailed on schedule. 

One of the last gifts was a stargram that Uhura had picked up for him at the Starbase Communications Center, where she had spent her R&R instructing on the new Swin system. It was from his mother and nephew, wishing him a “Happy Birthday!”

Lifting his glass of wine, Kirk said, “My friends, thank you for a delightful evening. A toast to you, and to our friends who couldn't be with us tonight. May the stars always guide you to a safe port!”

He was aware that he was dreaming, as an event from his past was reenacted. But even the knowing of this being a dream did not slake any of the dread that was building within him. The characters all played their parts as before, but their motions were at times slow paced, or then in bursts of maddening speed. He tried to wake up, but the drama continued to unfold. 

Kirk and the landing party; Spock, McCoy, Scott, and security personnel Zahra and Bobby, had all reacted to the screams, running into the nearby building. Once inside, Kirk had found Aurelan, hysterical, crying, pleading for help. Spock, Scott and Zahra dispersed, searching the other rooms, while Bobby remained outside. McCoy checked the two bodies laying on the floor of the room they were in. Kirk embraced Aurelan, trying to calm her, but she continued to struggle, her face wet with tears. 

Kirk called out to McCoy, who reached into his medi-kit, producing a hypo pre-set with a tranquilizer, and injected it into Aurelan. Kirk caught her as it swiftly took effect, lowering her into a nearby chair. 

“Aurelan, you're safe now,” he said softly, hoping to reassure her. 

From behind, McCoy, as he knelt over the small body of a child, called to Kirk. 

“Is this your brother, Jim?” pointing with his chin to the the body laying next to the child's.

Kirk turned, walking over to the body. Kneeling, he reached out, taking hold of a shoulder, rolling the body to face him. Looking at the face was like looking into a mirror. Except for the mustache, the wrinkles around the eyes, the thinning, grayer hair, it was his face. 

Sam!

“Oh, Sam,” he whispered. 

“It is my brother,” he answered, his voice low and monotone. “Was my brother,” he amended. 

“I'm sorry, Jim. The boy is unconscious, but he's still alive.”

Kirk joined McCoy at the side of the child. He now recognized him as Sam's youngest son. 

“Peter,” he said, laying a hand on the still shoulder. 

“I better get the boy and the mother back to the ship, Jim. I can't do much for them down here,” advised McCoy. 

Kirk nodded numbly in agreement. Standing, he stepped over to the nearby wall, leaning his shoulder against the solid surface for support, as if to absorb some of the wall's strength. From behind, Kirk heard someone approach him. 

As Kirk looked up into Spock's inexpressive face, Kirk thought he found some measure of peace. 

“Captain, I understand how you m...”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Spock,” interrupted Kirk. 

Kirk beamed up to the Enterprise with McCoy, Aurelan and Peter. While waiting in sickbay to question Aurelan, Spock reported in, advising Kirk of finding Sam Kirk's eldest two sons, also dead, in one of the other rooms. 

Aurelan regained consciousness, told Kirk of “terrible things” that had arrived on Deneva, brought unwillingly by a starship from Ingraham B. To talk caused he pain, but she fought it, trying to tell Kirk all she knew. Fought it until the pain had finally killed her. 

Kirk returned to the planet's surface to investigate further. Spock advised Kirk of strange noises coming from a nearby building. Going inside, they found unusual organisms clinging to the walls and ceiling. They proved to be resistant to their phasers. Concerned the room could be a trap, Kirk ordered the landing party out, but not in time. 

One of the creatures, capable of flight, attacked Spock, attaching its body to Spock's back. Spock fell, writhing on the floor in agony, crying out in pain. Kirk pulled the creature off, holding Spock as the Vulcan collapsed in Kirk's arms. 

Back in sickbay, Spock lay on one of the diagnostic beds, face abnormally pale. Kirk flinched each time Spock moaned, or Spock's body twitched in response to the pain. 

Kirk turned to McCoy, looking at Peter over McCoy's shoulder. 

“My nephew, if he regains consciousness, will he go through that?”

“Yes.”

“Help them. I don't care what it takes or what it costs, you've got to help them!” Kirk demanded.

“Jim, aren't you forgetting something? There are over a million colonists on that planet down there, just as much your responsibility. They need your help too, “ admonished McCoy. 

The Enterprise was in orbit of the first class M planet, other than Hellguard, they had located in the quadrant of space inside the Orion Arm they were assigned to investigate. Spock and McCoy had been back aboard a month, the ship had settled back into its normal operating routine. 

Kirk was in the sonic shower, the nap he had tried to take after he had got off watch had been impossible with the unwanted nightmares of Deneva intruding. He knew that he would have to give in and tell Bones about the insomnia, knowing already the lecture he would be given. Bones at times could be worse than the treatment. 

Waiting in Kirk's office to join him for dinner, McCoy sat at Kirk's desk sipping a glass of Saurian brandy, while Spock sat reading the latest journal from the Vulcan Science Academy. Kirk's intercom buzzed. Reaching over, McCoy turned the computer terminal to face him, opening the channel. Uhura's welcome face filled the screen, but her usual bright smile was absent. 

“Oh, Dr. McCoy! I have some priority message for the Captain.”

“Captain in the shower, Uhura. Anything wrong?” asked McCoy, knowing that Uhura, like he, would only break confidentiality in an emergency. 

“I'm afraid so, Doctor. News from Earth. Captain Kirk's mother has passed away!” advised Uhura, her voice low. 

At this, Spock put down his journal, eyes fixed on McCoy. 

“Standby, Uhura, I'll get the Captain.”

McCoy walked over to Kirk's bathroom, knocking loudly on the door. Kirk was already dressing, and popped his head out in response. 

“Uhura's waiting with some priority messages for you, Jim.

“Be right there.”

As Kirk approached the computer terminal, McCoy placed his hand on Kirk's shoulder. 

“You should know in advance. It's bad news. From home.”

Kirk stared at him back, his face going pale. He glanced swiftly at Spock, who was now standing against the cabin bulkhead. Then he nodded, sat at his desk, turning the computer terminal back towards him. 

“Kirk here, Uhura.”

“Captain, I have priority messages for you from Admiral Komack, at Starfleet Headquarters.

These messages from Earth were not on the Swin, the Enterprise was too far away from any Starbase to provide the relay. Komack's messages had been sent on the standard “can and send” squirt system. 

“Captain Kirk, it is my sad duty to inform you of the death of your mother. I was advised on stardate 6037.4 by authorities in Iowa that Mrs. Kirk passed away a few days prior, apparently from complications of her lengthy illness. I have my yeoman contacting the local Starfleet liaison, his report will follow mine. I'm sure you are aware, Captain, that due to the sensitive nature of your current assignment, it would be difficult to approve travel leave. Be assured that I am overseeing arrangements for your nephew to be cared for until I hear from you. Again, I'm sorry for your loss. Komack out.”

Immediately following Komack's message, Uhura played the message from Komack's yeoman. The details of Marjorie Kirk's death were given, complications of pneumonia and massive heart failure, following a long fight against SLE. The yeoman had included details of the funeral arrangements, as specified in the letter left with the family lawyer, and provided a current address where Peter Kirk was staying with neighbors. 

“Good Lord, I was right,” thought McCoy. The classic symptoms of SLE were visible when I saw her four months ago, she must have known she was a terminal case then!

The yeoman's message had ended. Kirk sat staring at a blank screen, still, until Uhura's face reappeared, her dark eyes filled with concern.

“I'll have those messages duplicated immediately, Captain, and sent to your quarters.”

Kirk looked up. 

“Fine, thank you, Lieutenant.”

Kirk turned to McCoy. 

“Damn, Bones, I didn't even know she was sick! Why didn't she tell me?” he asked, his voice shaky with emotion. 

McCoy struggled to find an answer to Kirk's question, something to say to him in empathy. He failed, and looked at Spock in desperation. 

Spock's voice was also low. 

“We don't have your answers, Jim. Maybe no one does. But you knew your mother's strengths, maybe an answer lays in understanding her.”

The rendezvous with the Yorktown was primarily for resupplying the Enterprise. She had been in the Orion Arm for four months, without a nearby Starbase or an inhabited planet to stop at for supplies. This was the second time the Yorktown had brought the supplies, but most important to the Enterprise, was the surface mail she brought. 

The Ensign assigned to mail call processed the incoming mail as quickly as possible, knowing the eager crew was waiting. As soon as “mail call” was announced throughout the ship, personnel on off duty status responded immediately.

Several hours later, Uhura stopped by when she got off of watch. She picked up several letters from her parents, and one from a sister studying on Coridan. Just as she was leaving, the Ensign stopped her, handing Uhura a package. It was addressed to the Captain, and when she saw the return mailing label, Uhura's heart leaped. 

The package had obviously been in transit for time, judging by all the forwarding stamps. It had been to Starbase 15, and then to Starbase 33, where they had picked up McCoy, and all the other Starfleet facilities in between. One end was crushed, the wrapping paper torn. But the return label was clearly legible: 

Marjorie Kirk  
RRT 12  
Wiota, Iowa  
4630229567  
Earth, Sol System  
United Federation of Planets

Checking with the bridge, Uhura was advised that the Captain was in recreation room twelve, deck three. She stopped at her quarters first, dropping off her mail. Changing out of uniform into a brightly colored caftan, she picked up the Vulcan harp that Spock had given to her for her last birthday, and went in search of her Captain. 

In the four months that had passed since Kirk had received the news of his mother's death, the crew had gradually become aware of the subtle change in their Captain's behavior. He was very slowly building a buffer zone around himself, cutting himself off from those who cared about him. 

Those closest to the Captain had tried, each in their own way, to provide some support. Spock had attempted to entice Kirk into playing chess more often, but after being rebuffed every time, had given up. Spock had also reverted to his earlier behavior pattern, before the Captain had won his friendship. He too had withdrawn into his Vulcan impassivity. Sulu's fencing lessons had stopped; dinners with McCoy were infrequent; as were raids on Scotty's “hidden still.” Kirk had even stopped coming to hear Uhura sing in the main recreation room. 

Entering rec room twelve, Uhura at first though the bridge had given her the wrong location. The lighting had been dimmed, and the room appeared empty. Then, over in the far corner, she spied Kirk sitting alone before a chess board. 

She stood in front of him for several seconds, before he became aware that she was there. Looking up, he had a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant, what did you say?”

“I was asking sir, if my playing would disturb you?” replied Uhura. 

“No, no, go ahead. I was going to my quarters soon anyway,” said Kirk, pushing back his chair, as he stood up.

“Oh, by the way, Captain, this came for you in the mail call,” said Uhura, keeping her voice as level as possible, holding out the package. 

Taking the package from her, Kirk glanced at the label. He stood still for a minute, staring at the return label, then sat down heavily in his chair, placing the package on the table. 

“Thank you, Uhura,” he said quietly. 

“You're welcome, sir, “ answered Uhura. Turning, she walked over to the other side of the rec room, pulling out a chair at one of the tables. As quietly as possible she began tuning her harp. 

Kirk continued staring at the package for several minutes. Finally, he picked it up, testing the weight of it in his hands. Sighing, he gripped the wrapping paper where it had torn, tearing it away from the package carton. Lifting up the top, he pushed aside the tissue paper inside wrapped around a smaller, bright yellow wrapped package. Taking this out, he unwrapped it carefully, putting aside a letter that fell out. Looking at what was inside, he caught his breath, hands trembling. 

He was holding an olive-green cardigan sweater. On each shoulder, gold yarn had been worked into the design to form vertical rows – two long, and in between, one short. Captain's stripes. Standing up, he unfolded the sweater, putting it on. 

The sweater was a little large for him, he had lost weight over the last several months. He noticed that the right sleeve was slightly longer than the left. Looking closer, he observed that the pattern in the right sleeve was different from its mate, looser, uneven. 

She knitted this just before she dies, he thought. Suddenly, he couldn't bear to wear it any longer. Hurriedly he took it off, throwing it onto the table, and walked out of the recreation room. 

Entering his quarters, Kirk checked his computer terminal for messages. McCoy had called, asking if he would like to join him for dinner. There were several routine status reports from the bridge. Security had called to advise that they had finally found where Scotty had re-hidden the still, the new location was the best yet: the pharmaceutical lab. Kirk couldn't help smiling, Scotty was getting better at hiding the still every time. Better make a raid to let Scotty know that Security had found it, so he could re-hide it. 

Kirk walked over to his bunk, taking off his tunic and boots. Laying down on the bedspread, he put one arm behind his head. He tried to sort out his emotions; concentrating on the one he was feeling the most. Guilt. His mother had thought he loved his ship more than his family, hadn't told him she was dying. Had she been afraid that once told, he would choose the Enterprise over her, and not come home? Damn!

He lay there for several minutes, trying to fall asleep, but the harder he tried, the more sleep evaded him. Hearing his door annunicator chime, he first ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. No luck, whoever it was wouldn't leave. Then remembering McCoy's invitation to dinner, he assumed it was the good doctor. Reaching up, he released the remote door lock set into the headboard of his bunk, rolling off of the bunk to meet McCoy. 

And ran right into Uhura, knocking what she holding onto the deck. They both bent over at the same time to pick up, in doing so, hit their heads against each other. 

“Ow!” exclaimed Uhura, as she picked up the package. 

“You left this in the rec room,” she explained, holding out the package as she rubbed her head. 

Kirk reached out, to take the package again from Uhura. He was surprised when she took his free hand. 

“Jim, is there anything I can do for you? Please, let me help!” she pleaded, her eyes glistening with tears that were being held back. 

Kirk looked at her sharply. In over four years of service together, Uhura had never called him by his first name. Even Spock had started to use Jim casually. 

“Let me help” echoed in Kirk's mind. I wish you could, Uhura, he thought, but I'm not even sure what is wrong.

Uhura took her hand from his, picking up the sweater from the box. Tilting her head to one side, she looked up at him. 

“This is beautiful, the love she had for you is reflected in her work.”

Kirk took the sweater from her. 

“My birthday present from my mother. My mother was dying, and she didn't tell me. She thought I loved my ship more than her. Didn't she know if she had told me, I would have come home to be with her?”

Uhura moved in closer to him, placing her right hand against his face. 

“I truly believe that she did know that you would have come for her. And in knowing, that you would jeopardize your career, for both you and I know that Starfleet Command would have assigned the Enterprise a new captain if you had left eight months ago, she was silent. In her silence, perhaps she gave you the last gift she could offer - a chance to remain with your new family. For that is what we are - McCoy, Spock, and all the rest of us,” she said quietly, her fingers placed against his lips, as it to quell any protest. 

He remained silent. He felt the warmth of her hand against her face, the softness of her skin on his. The tears she had been trying to hold back had now silently escaped, leaving wet trails down her cheeks. Reaching out, he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. 

He held her there for a minute, her head against his chest, the sweater in between them. The box had fallen to the deck, forgotten this time. 

“Captain,” asked Uhura, her voice muffled. 

“Yes?”

“I can't breathe!” she wailed. 

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He released Uhura from his embrace. She stepped back wiping her face, looking at him. Then she too started laughing, one hand clutched to her midriff, black eyes flashing. 

Kirk started to move to her, when the door annunciator chimed again. 

Sighing, he stood before her, hands on her shoulders. 

“You know, what this ship needs is rhythm,” he said smiling. To her puzzled expression, he added, “No one has a sense of timing!”

Uhura started laughing again, as he leaned forward, brushing his lips across her forehead lightly, then turned, and released the door lock. 

Standing on the other side was an impatient McCoy. Startled at Uhura's presence, he was not quite sure what was going on, what he had intruded on. He knew Kirk's policy about getting “involved” with any of his crew. Still, this was Uhura. 

“Ah, Captain, stopped by to see if you wanted to join me for dinner,” McCoy finally managed to sputter out. 

Kirk laughed again. “As a matter of fact, Bones, I'm famished. How about you, Uhura, would you like to join us?

Uhura smiled. 

“Yes, thank you, Captain.”

“Great! I'll meet you two in the dining room in a few minutes. I need to change,” he said, holding up the sweater for McCoy to see. “My mom knitted this for my birthday. Can't wear it to dinner over this,” running his hand over his rumpled back T-shirt. 

McCoy held out his arm to Uhura, smiling. “May I be your escort, lovely lady?”

“My pleasure sir,” she replied, winking at Kirk as they left his cabin. 

Picking up the box, Kirk found the letter he had so far neglected to read. Sitting at this desk, he filled a glass with some of the Romulan ale McCoy has given him for his birthday. The blue viscuous liquid started smoking as it was introduced to the oxygen in the cabin. Sipping the ale, Kirk leaned back and unfolded the stationery. 

_Dearest Jim;_

_On your 17th birthday, when we received the then confirmation of your father's death, you were so angry with me for not giving permission for you to enter the Academy yearly. You never in all these years asked why, I think you should now know the reason. At that time, your admission would have been accepted solely on the basis of you being your father's son. I loved your father very much, Jim, and I didn't want you to take the advantage of having his name. I wanted you to make you own accomplishments, which you have **done** so well. I am so very proud of you. _

_Please don't be angry with me now for not telling you of my illness. This disease has robbed me of the youth and the energy that you remember me having. I wanted to leave you with that memory._

_Peter has taken to climbing out the bedroom window the way you used to (didn't think I knew about that, did you?) to do his stargazing. He's not quite as resourceful as you though, still hasn't found the blanket and the pillow I left for him in your old hiding place under the porch._

_Peter will be the next Kirk to go to the stars._

_I do regret not being able to see your friends, Spock and McCoy, again. You are so lucky to have such good friends, dear. And a good crew. Take care of them. And of yourself, my dearest son._

_Happy Birthday, Jim._

_I love you so very much._

_Mom_

Later that evening, Kirk and McCoy escorted Uhura to the main recreation room, where she had consented to sing one of Kirk's favorite Andorian ballads. Spock was the chess board, playing against the computer. Smiling at Uhura, Kirk joined his First Officer at the chess game. 

“It's been some time since we played, Spock. I may be a little rusty, but would you care to play a game?

“Of course, Captain,” answered Spock, his voice void of emotion. 

Behind Kirk, and in Spock's line of sight, Uhura was trying to catch Spock's attention. Succeeding, she pinched the fabric of her caftan at the shoulder, then glanced at Kirk. Spock started to speak, but furiously Uhura shook her head, pinching the fabric of her caftan again. 

Spock looked at Kirk, noticing for the first time the sweater he was wearing. “New sweater, Captain,” he asked, as innocently as only a Vulcan could. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact it is, Spock. Birthday present from my Mother. Hand knitted,” Kirk replied with obvious pride. 

“Have I ever told you of the time, Spock, when my mother caught Sam and I...”

Behind Kirk, Uhura smiled as she caught Spock's glance. Then lightly fingering the strings on her harp, softly began playing.


End file.
